Showing posts with label Beatings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beatings. Show all posts

Saturday, April 11, 2026

Movie Review: Redemption (SPOILERS and TW for Child Abuse)

MOVIE TITLE: Redemption

RELEASE DATE: 2007

DIRECTOR: Michael Bryson

GENRE: Short Film (22 minutes)

SUBGENRE: Psychological Drama

RATING: Unrated, but contains emotional and physical child abuse

GRADE: A

 

Because the run time is only 22 minutes, it’s impossible to discuss the plot points without crossing into spoiler territory, so if you don’t want spoilers, leave now and read something else.

 

And because this is a short film made by a low-budget indie company, it really does show when they film within their means. The camera work, the editing, the sound quality, yes, it all screams low-budget indie film. Don’t let that factor into your enjoyment when watching this movie. Enjoyment might not be the right word because of how triggering some of the content is, but if you’ve been spoiled by Hollywood movie effects, it’ll be jarring to see something of this quality. The acting, the storyline, and the psychology behind this film more than make up for it.

 

Every actor who played a part in Redemption did their job and did it convincingly. When the mother beats the little girl after a bedwetting accident, you feel the daughter’s pain through her visceral screams and heart-wrenching cries. You feel it all over again when the mother forces her daughter to go outside in public with a diaper on so that everyone can scrutinize her shame. The daughter’s body language, her pouting, her head tucked in her lap, you know she’s going through abuse even without seeing the violence yourself, though including the violence on screen was necessary to drive the point home. You understand that the mother mourns the death of her husband. She’s lost without him, but instead of being there for her daughter, who also lost a father, the mother beats and humiliates her with forced infantilization. Yes, the daughter accidentally distracted her dad and caused him to crash the car and die, but she was a kid being playful, not malicious. The guilt of causing her father’s death compounded with the vengeful abuse from her mother create a cocktail of trauma for her to grow up with. The traumatic events are different for all of us in this life, but nobody makes it out unscathed. The daughter is relatable on some level. That’s why we don’t shame her when she finds a pistol in her mother’s nightstand drawer and shoots her.

 

I have one nitpick about the plot going forward from this point, but it’s not enough to lower my grade. After shooting her abusive mother, the daughter grows up and gets married without any mention of her serving jail time for what she did. Yes, she was in the right, but this movie was filmed in Texas, so I’m assuming the story takes place there, too. The right-wing Texas government doesn’t give a damn about women and girls and will go to any lengths to subjugate them. If the daughter did serve time in jail, it was awfully short and a surprisingly gentle experience that didn’t make her worse. But at the end of the day, there’s a story to tell and it has nothing to do with the Texas prison system. The movie is called Redemption and by God, that’s what we’re going to get.

 

Another nitpick, but it’s one some other audience members might have: the narrator’s voice. Obviously, the story is narrated by the abused girl who grows up into a psychotically traumatized adult. Her voice is nasally, whiny, and subdued. Some audience members might be put off by her voice, but not me. That’s the voice of someone who’s been forced to endure infantilization against her will. That’s the voice of a child who never had the chance to grow up and experience life. And yes, when you experience a significant amount of childhood trauma, it changes your voice. There’s actual science behind that. I’m glad the director chose to tell the story that way, because it makes perfect sense.

 

And then there’s a nitpick that certain members of the diaper community have voiced on the internet that I can’t take seriously: “Uh, why didn’t she just marry a guy with a diaper fetish?” Because that’s not the point of the story! She’s not wearing diapers as an adult to entice her husband. She’s wearing them because they feel familiar, even if that place of familiarity was dark and terrifying. A familiar trauma will always gain favor over the scariness of the unknown. We like familiarity, because it cuts down on anxiety, ironically enough. You could argue that it’s not a man’s job to fix broken women in the same way that it’s not a woman’s job to fix broken men. But her husband loves her for who she is. He married her for a reason. He didn’t get in the relationship specifically to fix her. But when he sees her wearing a diaper and laying on a bed full of crime scene photos, he doesn’t want to judge or laugh. He wants to heal her. He wants to be supportive and help her move on.

 

The movie ends when he tears up a crime scene photo and embraces her, allowing her to shed tears on his strong shoulders. The fact that she was able to maintain a relationship for as long as she did is nothing short of a miracle. That alone is a strong thing for a traumatized woman to do. Now it’s her turn to be taken care of, by someone who actually loves her and won’t punish her for simple mistakes no matter how deadly they turn out to be. The little girl started off in a happy family, then tragedy struck, then she survived abuse, and now she found love again. It’s a psychologically sound story to tell.

 

I wish that all survivors of abuse find their way back to love, in whatever form that may take. It doesn’t have to be through marriage. It could be platonic love. It could be found family rather than blood family. It could be through taking care of a furry friend like a dog or a cat. We do have to break the cycle eventually, but we don’t have to do it alone nor should we. It takes a village to raise a traumatized child. It takes love in all of its forms to get us back on the right path. The daughter could have continued down a violent path. But she didn’t. She broke the cycle. I love stories about breaking the cycle. They’re relatable, they’re hard-hitting, and they remind us over and over again that we’re not alone in this world. Even if you come from a loving family, you can suffer abuse from other people outside of your home. Your parents are not your only influence in life. Whoever influences you the most, for better or worse, may you one day find your redemption and healing. This movie gets an A grade for the acting and story alone. If you want special effects, go to a WWE show, if you can afford it. You might have to dig into your college trust fund to pay for tickets, or sell one of your kidneys. Redemption, on the other hand, is easy to find online if you look hard enough for it. Am I talking about the movie or actual redemption? Yes, I am.

Friday, July 18, 2025

Stay Down

VERSE 1

Your childhood sucked, so your offspring must pay

Beat them with a belt to make sure they’re not gay

A piece of leather passed down from your father

You could throw that shit away, but why the hell bother?

Whip them, lash them, and verbally trash them

Their spirits and dreams, go ahead and smash them

When you’re taken away with cuffs around your wrists

You can tell the courtroom about the gripes on your list

 

PRE-CHORUS

Mr. Narcissist, next time you get pissed

Make sure the gun you put to your head doesn’t miss

 

CHORUS

Stay down! X4

 

VERSE 2

You hate your wife, because she ruined your life

That’s the story you tell on your way to hell

Too much nagging from her led you to a divorce

You’re so innocent, so you owe her, of course

You say the system’s rigged with a voice so big

But your dick’s so small and so are your balls

One last check in the form of alimony

Your bank account is dry, keep pissing and moaning

 

PRE-CHORUS

Mr. Wifebeater, Mr. Cheater, Mr. Geezer

Next time you keep a dead body in your freezer

Call your victim anything but a skeezer

It’s not a good look when you’re locked up and booked

 

CHORUS

Stay down! X4

 

BRIDGE

I’m sorry life didn’t turn out the way you wanted

I’m sorry you grew up with a mind so haunted

But my real sympathies lie with the ones you hurt

You didn’t have to do that, no more bodies in the dirt

Nobody walks away from this life unscathed

Doesn’t mean they need to feel even half of your pain

You could have broken the cycle, but you broke their bones

You broke their minds too, so forgiveness is a hard no

 

CHORUS

Stay down! X8

 

OUTRO

Lay down!

And stay down!

‘Cause if you get back up

You’ll get jacked up!

Monday, August 30, 2021

Calling You Out

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!


VERSE 1

When I’m walking down the street in the summer heat

I might get my ass beat for a yucky-yucky Tweet

Cancel culture isn’t real, but I still don’t like the feel

Of high pitched squeals beating me down like steel

Rapid fire insults are like punches to my gut

They wouldn’t know my pain if it bit them on the butt

I’ll do all my Tweeting from a padded prison cell

You’re the villains of the story, in case you can’t tell


CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!


VERSE 2

You’re like the pizza-pizza guy from Little Caesar’s

Just say “gangster-gangster”, you My Pillow squeezer

That’s what you really are: a gangster in the dark

Creeping on me while I’m walking through the park

I could never run fast, I would always finish last

In a marathon sprint, put me in a leg cast

Can’t get away from the fortune and the fame

Every fall from grace sounds about the same


CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!


VERSE 3

I’m eating with my friends, I’m eating with my family

You say my words are crazy while you suffer from insanity

You made your point about fifty years ago, my guy

You’d think by now that it dissolved into a lie


CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

Friday, January 15, 2021

Save the World

 VERSE 1

I talked some shit online about Dumbass Donald

And his favorite butt puppet Moscow McConnell

I got a million replies telling me I should die

Telling me they’ll drink my liberal tears if I cry

I got a head full of demons and nothing accomplished

Couldn’t find anything we could share in common

But at least I performed my own civic duty

Even though my mind is melting into something gooey


CHORUS

Why does everybody expect me to save the world?

By myself! With nobody else!

Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?

I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!


VERSE 2

I went to the protest and held up my cardboard sign

Got a face full of mace and now I’m legally blind

Got a beer bottle broken over my pretty little head

If I come for round two, they’ll shoot my ass dead

I got a hospital bill and not a damn thing changed

I’ve got years of therapy, who’s willing to pay?

But at least I can say that I’ve got some big balls

I hope they’ll help against my debt collection calls


CHORUS

Why does everybody expect me to save the world?

By myself! With nobody else!

Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?

I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!


BRIDGE

Is it too much to ask that I see some results

To go with my beatings and bigoted insults?

Is it too much to ask for systematic reform

When dystopia has become the new norm?

Is it too much to ask for some compensation

When I’m crucified by the Teabag nation?

Is it too much to ask that my efforts matter

Or should we keep making the fat cats fatter?


VERSE 3

I went to the courthouse and filed a lawsuit

Against everybody who dared to lick boots

Case dragged on for a whole millennium

I couldn’t outspend every single defendant

I did my best and not a fucking thing improved

No tears for me, because nobody was moved

I guess you could tell me, “Welcome to the club”

Before you beat my ass with it, stain it in blood


EXTENDED CHORUS

Why does everybody expect me to save the world?

By myself! With nobody else!

Why does everybody expect me to have superpowers?

I wasn’t born tough! I’m just a traumatized coward!

Why does everybody think I’ve got what it takes

Then brush it all off with the phrase, “That’s the breaks?”

Why can’t I just lay in bed with my pretty kitty?

I’m not Batman and this is not Gotham City!

Monday, August 5, 2019

Punished For Nothing


VERSE 1
The rift between crime and punishment
Is the rift between democracy and government
A slap on the wrist for a child rapist
A lifetime in prison for the drugs taken
Beaten and tortured for freedom of speech
What lessons are we supposed to teach?
That you’re fucked no matter what?
Unless you’ve got over a billion bucks?

CHORUS
Punished for nothing! X4

VERSE 2
Protesting peacefully in a crowded street
Pepper spray burns like hellfire heat
Bones broken by a pair of booted feet
A life sentence for daring to question
The authority that screwed you over
No punishment for the country’s owners
Administrative leave for those who smash
The skulls of innocents who’re treated like trash

CHORUS
Punished for nothing! X4

VERSE 3
White man, black man, what’s the difference?
One is automatically declared innocent
The other is treated like he’s second class
Yet we refuse to acknowledge the racist past
Calling the cops for doing mundane tasks
Sparing those who kiss the authority’s ass
One nation under fraud, justice for none
It’s all just a joke to you, all in good fun

CHORUS
Punished for nothing! X4

FINAL VERSE
They always tell us to not break the law
But even innocents can have a broken jaw
Even a jaywalker can eat a fucking bullet
The American Dream has been stolen

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Crawl and Brawl


CHORUS
Ten thousand punches, tenderized lunches
Ten thousand crunches, bones break in bunches
Ten thousand kicks from the six-six-six
Crawl and brawl, bitch, crawl and brawl!

VERSE 1
A super-kick party’s got nothing on this
Ten thousand uppercuts, death match bliss
Taking razor wire and wrapping those fists
Someone’s getting killed, somebody’s pissed
Steel cage couldn’t contain all the bloodshed
A prison riot? We ain’t fucking done yet
Every last dumb shit is waiting to get beaten
Every last dead body is waiting to get eaten

CHORUS
Ten thousand punches, tenderized lunches
Ten thousand crunches, bones break in bunches
Ten thousand kicks from the six-six-six
Crawl and brawl, bitch, crawl and brawl!

VERSE 2
A Florida gator will feast on all the haters
A Burmese tiger will bring the fucking fire
An African rhino will gore you in the gut
Trample your ass into the bubbling mud
You picked the wrong fight for tonight
The holy preacher will speak your last rites
The undertaker will take you to your maker
Crawl and brawl until you all fucking fall

CHORUS
Ten thousand punches, tenderized lunches
Ten thousand crunches, bones break in bunches
Ten thousand kicks from the six-six-six
Crawl and brawl, bitch, crawl and brawl!

VERSE 3
A golden belt means less than a human pelt
A gold medal will not bring the heavy metal
A trophy cup will not make them shut up
Snuggle with severed heads when going to bed
A bloody dream will make your genitals cream
In the real world, they scream like little girls
Only a true warrior can make the world cry
As they watch their heavyweight champions die

FINAL LINES
Crawl and brawl! X4

Sunday, May 26, 2019

Insane Asylum


VERSE 1
Prisoners have more rights than we do
Call it a hospital? That shit is see-through
A medieval dungeon with torture devices
A lobotomy is what you’ve decided
Electroshock to scramble the brains
Straightjacket so tight, extreme pain
Orderlies beating us up for no reason
Fresh new prisoners, it’s hunting season

CHORUS
Insane asylum, healthcare ward
Heard the euphemisms before
Spraying dog shit with cologne
Doesn’t make it smell like home

VERSE 2
Mental ward system is all about money
Got to keep them loonies from running
Lock them up and collect your payday
Maximize profit, taxman stay away
It’s not a crazy conspiracy theory
You motherfuckers refuse to hear me
Another wrestling match with the nurses
They too collect money like fight purses

CHORUS
Insane asylum, healthcare ward
Heard the euphemisms before
Spraying dog shit with cologne
Doesn’t make it smell like home

VERSE 3
It’s not the exception, it’s the rule
Whenever you pull out a torture tool
One day they’ll carry your ass away
You can be in the center of the fray
You can be strapped down to a gurney
Electroshock will leave you burning
A shot of horse to put you to bed
But like you said, it’s all in your head

EXTENDED CHORUS
Insane asylum, healthcare ward
Heard the euphemisms before
Spraying dog shit with cologne
Doesn’t make it smell like home
No insurance, no healthcare
The dungeon is right over there
Out of sight from the rest of town
Depressed frowns turn upside down

FINAL LINE
Hahahahahahahahaha!
No
Just no

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Solving My Problems With Violence


VERSE 1
It’s the gift that keeps on giving
It’s the hell that keeps on living
A smack for refusing to listen
To the orders you have been given
I’m not asking you to commit murder
To turn dead bodies into hamburgers
It’s a simple task, not too much to ask
Yet you choose to be a pain in the ass

CHORUS
Solving my problems with violence
Is better than pacifistic silence
Is better than being a pushover
To someone who should act older

VERSE 2
Keep your ears open, your mouth shut
For your excuses, I give zero fucks
Your angry stare means nothing to me
It’s the final warning for you to heed

CHORUS
Solving my problems with violence
Is better than pacifistic silence
Is better than being a pushover
To someone who should act older

BRIDGE
Pushing me to the edge
I’m going out of my head
Smack, smack, smack, smack
I’m going on the final attack

VERSE 3
I’m the teacher, you’re the student
Quit pretending like you are stupid
Quit resisting every word I say
I didn’t come here to fucking play

EXTENDED CHORUS
Solving my problems with violence
Is better than pacifistic silence
Is better than being a pushover
To someone who should act older
Solving my problems with rage
It gets much worse with old age
It may get me locked in a cage
At least I can call myself a sage

Saturday, August 4, 2018

Incelbordination, Chapter 9


When the Monday morning sunshine burst through his window, Oswald Crow contemplated taking the day off. He could tell Valerie Sand that he had come down with food poisoning or something. Then again, if he pulled that sneaky trick, the C- would become a D+ in no time at all. He wasn’t sick, but he’d have to take his medicine anyways. He pounded his fists into the pillow as he dragged himself out of bed to get ready for class. Why did Monday mornings have to exist in the first place, especially when Sunday mornings were days when Incelbordination “went to war”. The thought of their hate speech made Oswald feel as though he had worms crawling in his stomach.

What would be on his MP3 player today? Something to relax him? Something to hype him up? A band to share his sadness with? Nah, he didn’t feel like music today. He just put on his trench coat and fucked off to English class. With Incelbordination clouding every corner of his mind, he didn’t feel like he could concentrate on music. If that was the case, what made him think he could concentrate on schoolwork? Maybe he should have taken the day off and smoked a shit ton of weed. Eh, maybe not.

Oswald’s posture drooped over as he headed to class, barely paying attention to the sets of shoes around him. Some of the “Stacys” had worn sandals and shorts on this fine spring day, but he didn’t give a damn anymore, not after Valerie gave him shit about it this past Friday. Oh crap, he actually had to see her and had very little time to get there. He kept telling himself to turn around and take a personal day, but his zombie body pushed him forward nonetheless.

The only thing bombastic enough to awaken him was the sound of an explosion followed by van engines and young men screaming incoherent slogans about not getting laid. Oswald had just unknowingly stumbled upon a terrorist attack and watched in horror as masked men went around beating the shit out of other students. Some of them whipped “Stacys” with belts. Some of them punched “Chads” with brass knuckles. Those who were driving the vans mowed down both “Chads” and “Stacys” like human bowling pins, though the terrorists would clearly dispute the human part of that analogy.

“Oh no…Oh my fucking lord…” Oswald said to himself as he knelt down and held his head in his hands. He believed he was powerless to stop this madness even with his superior boxing skills. So many masked men…so many weapons…so many vans…and here was this dwarf just waiting to get his ass kicked or even worse. He believed wholeheartedly that he brought this upon himself. He should have told Detective Barry about this when he had the chance.

“Help!” shouted a terrified feminine voice muffled by a glass door. Oswald collected himself and noticed his one true crush Nikita Johnson banging on the glass door of his English class begging for a rescue. “Someone help me! Please!” she shouted over and over again.

One more dead Stacy doesn’t matter, an intrusive inner voice told Oswald. No. It does matter. It has to matter. This madness had to stop. Cracking his knuckles and both sides of his neck, Oswald bolted towards the glass door and shouted, “Nikita, hang on!” He rolled up his trench coat sleeves and started punching the shit out of the glass door. This was no doubt tough material that left his knuckles bleeding and his hands calloused. But one crack in the glass turned into two. Two turned into four. Just a few more pain wracking punches that sent shockwaves through his numbed out arm. And then the glass door shattered and Nikita was free.

Before she could taste freedom, a heavyset man wearing a black mask hand-gagged her  and pulled her backwards kicking and screaming. “Get your fucking mitts off of her, you sick prick!” shouted Oswald before punching the terrorist in the knee and buckling him. The dwarf ignored the pain now shooting up to his shoulders as he threw a few more heavy rights and lefts until the terrorist’s knee was completely blown out. Letting go of Nikita, the fat man collapsed to the ground crying like a bitch while Oswald’s hands bled some more.

Nikita leaned down and quickly examined the dwarf’s knuckles. She said, “Come on, let’s get you out of here! My car’s in the parking lot. Let’s go!” She gave Oswald a piggy-back ride and bolted out of the classroom, zig-zagging between various masked men pummeling their prey. Even in Birkenstocks, Nikita ran with the coordination of an athlete. Oswald had little time to admire her physicality as his knuckles bled all over her blue T-shirt. There were probably pieces of glass stuck in them.

Another heavyweight terrorist grabbed Nikita by her arm as she trashed and yelled, “Get your hands off of me, you pervert!” Not wanting to further injure his hands, Oswald leapt onto the jerk and head-butted him until blood soaked the man’s mask. The world around the dwarf seemed to spin like an amusement park ride after so many head strikes. Nikita had to pull him off the thug and piggy-back him some more.

The duo finally made it to Nikita’s car, though the angry voices behind them grew even more vicious the more she fumbled with her keys. She eventually found the right one, but was so jittery that she had trouble fitting it in the door. Another thug had jumped on top of the car wielding a crowbar and that was enough to knock both Nikita and Oswald backwards in fright. The thug chanted over and over again, “Love is black!” while raising his weapon in the air.

“Don’t hurt us! Leave us alone, you coward!” begged Nikita as she curled into the fetal position. The thug jumped down from the roof and raised his weapon like he was going to strike any second. Oswald was still fading in and out of clarity, but even with minimal equilibrium, he kicked the thug in the ankle and had him hopping up and down. After he dropped the crowbar, Oswald grabbed his other ankle and with one hard tug tripped him to the ground, making sure he hit his head on the roof.

Once the thug was KO’ed, Oswald struggled so much to help Nikita to her feet that he nearly blacked out. She hurried and fit the key in the door successfully this time before situating the dwarf in the passenger seat. He was so out of it that he didn’t bother to fasten his seatbelt. Nikita wasted no time in getting in the driver’s seat and getting the engine going, peeling out of there like a bat out of hell. She had to run over another thug in order to obtain a clear path to freedom, but she did and kept going.

“I need to take you to a hospital, you’re hurt!” sobbed Nikita.

“No! The hospital’s going to be backed up. Take me back to my dorm room. I’ve got medical shit we can use there. I just hope the cops can come in time to stop this BS.”

Oswald started to drift into darkness, but Nikita kept shaking his shoulder and saying, “Stay with me, little guy! This isn’t over yet! I’ll get you back to your dorm in no time at all!”

The dwarf’s speech began to slur as he talked nonsense for the rest of the ride to the dorm. “That C- is going to kill humanity…she’s going to steal the world’s pot and…”

“Oswald, what the hell are you talking about?!” No response. “Oswald, please wake up!” Still no response. “Oswald! No!” Nikita shook him harder and harder, but he still wouldn’t snap out of his concussion wonderland, if a concussion was what he indeed had. A psychiatrist might lean towards PTSD, a disease which got thrown around a lot on campus, but was completely justified this time around. What the dwarf would give for some pot right at that moment. Beautiful, mind-numbing, pain-dulling pot that made mundane clouds look like vanilla ice cream.

Nah, he couldn’t very well pull a ready roll out in this strange woman’s car. Come to think of it, even in his head-butt induced darkness, he seemed to remember her sharing an English assignment with the class about her straightedge beliefs. Maybe inviting her back to the dorm was a bad idea since that was where all of the magic medicine was kept. Then again, Oswald had nowhere else to go to, both to escape Incelbordination and to find permanence in life.

At this moment, Nikita Johnson was the closest thing to a godsend he had. Even though he was perfectly capable of sprinting long distances, she gave him a piggyback ride to safety after seeing his hands bleeding. Bloody hands weren’t unusual for a boxer at Oswald’s level, but never had it warranted a piggyback ride. Maybe the massive blood loss was making his mind go berserk. Then again, maybe it was the general loveliness of Nikita even though she was in hysterics. Before he finally drifted into the subconscious theater, Oswald had a tiny smile on his face knowing the two of them would finally be alone together.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Silent Warrior, Chapter 27


It took fifteen seconds of staring at his own Nikes, but Craig Dunham finally said what he needed to say: “Look, Scott…I’m probably the last person who should be asking you for help right now. You threw a garbage can at me only a few months before. Hell, you probably feel like doing even more than that, maybe deck me a good one on the chin. But…I didn’t ask for this appointment for nothing, I swear to god.”

Sitting in his comfy swivel chair with the ease and professionalism of a true counselor, Scott calmly said, “Listen, Craig, whatever happened between us in the past, it’s all over now. Things are different now, just like Miss Williams said they would be. I have a new job and you happen to be my first client. You’re here for a reason and I’d probably be right in thinking it has something to do with that scar on your hand.”

Craig sighed and lifted up his hooded sweatshirt to reveal he had even more scars than that. One on his belly, one on his ribs, and a couple of bruises on his chest. Scott hypnotically gazed at them in sympathy and replied with a whispery, “Holy shit. Those are fresh. Who did this to you?” No response. “Craig, if I’m going to help you, I need to know everything that happened. How did you get these bruises? Walking into a doorknob doesn’t do that to people and neither does falling down stairs.”

“Funny, because that’s what I’ve been telling people this whole time. Anytime I took off my shirt for gym class or football practice, they’d be as plain as day. I’d laugh about them with the guys, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling them everything. Oh, and I also said they’re from being tackled during games. I think that was what threw them off my trail.”

“Craig, you didn’t answer my question.”

“My dad did this,” said Craig with trembling lips, causing Scott to lean back in his chair with even more pathos in his eyes. “He, uh…he caught me listening to some…questionable music. Here, let me show you.” As Craig choked back tears, he pulled various CD’s out of his backpack, all of the cases cracked, all of the music preaching nonconformist values: Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, Motionless in White, and Ghost to name a few.

“Is your dad religious?”

“Oh, that’s putting it mildly. He makes the old testament look like a Disney movie.” Craig still refused to make eye contact with Scott. “The first time I heard about him talking about God and shit, I didn’t know what to make of it. And just for that little bit of doubt, he beat the shit out of me. I was only six years old then. That’s not some Freudian shit and I know it doesn’t excuse what I’ve done to people like you. It’s just that…” The tears slowly fell from his face and Scott was there to hand him tissues.

Scott leaned forward in his chair to further engage in his subject and placed folded steeple hands in his own lap. “Listen to me. I’m sure not many people are inclined to tell you this, but I’m going to tell it to you right now. Nobody…and I mean nobody…should ever use their religion or politics as a weapon against another human being. It’s not a dad’s job to beat the shit out of his kids over a minor disagreement. It’s not discipline. It’s barbarism. There’s nothing wrong with the music you’re listening to and there’s nothing wrong with questioning authority.”

With his lips trembling even harder, Craig wept, “What will the team think of me? They can’t see me crying like this.”

“Well, that’s funny, because I always thought the true definition of a friend is someone who is loyal to you until the end. It’s like Marilyn Manson always said: if you want to find out who your friends are, sink the ship. The first ones to jump are not your friends. If your football teammates make fun of you for being emotional, they’re not true friends. They’re bullies with a close connection to you. The reason you picked on other students so much was because of all these negative influences, and no, that’s not Freudian bullshit.”

Craig shrugged and said, “They’re the only friends I’ve ever had. I can’t just tell them to fuck off.”

“You know what’s worse than having no friends at all? Having shitty friends who bring you down just to build themselves up. I’m sure those kids have some deep-seeded issues just like you do, but until they come forward with open arms and open hearts, they don’t deserve you. If you want to cry your eyes out, you’re more than welcome to do so. Not only is this stigma of men not being able to cry bullshit, but you’re doing it in a safe place: my office. Nothing you do here will ever leave this room…except for one thing.” Scott handed Craig the phone cradle and nodded knowingly at him.

“You want me to call 9-1-1 on my dad? Are you crazy? The cops aren’t going to believe me. They don’t believe anybody who doesn’t have more DNA evidence than a CSI laboratory.”

“Your bruises and cuts are more than enough evidence to put your father away for a long time. And even if the cops don’t believe your side of the story, at least this police report will set everything in motion so that you don’t have to see him again. If there’s another family member or friend you can stay with, find them and pack your bags. The cops may be overly skeptical, but if you don’t try to at least reach out to them, this is going to continue and things will only get worse. Come on, Craig. Just try.”

After a while of staring at his counselor with dewy eyes, Craig took the phone cradle with a convulsing hand and slowly brought his fingers to the keypad. “Would you mind giving me some privacy, Scott? This is my first 9-1-1 call and I…I can’t explain it right now.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Craig. I’ve been there before. The first call is never easy. I know this, because I was the one who made the call when my own father died. You never forget your first time for a lot of things. If you want privacy, I’d be more than happy to step outside the office for a little while. Take as much time as you need and don’t leave out any important details.”

With one arm, Craig gave an awkward hug to Scott and thanked him over and over again for his help. Scott reluctantly returned the hug and stepped out of his digs to give Craig his due privacy. Once the door was closed, Scott rubbed his face and breathed sobering sighs. He almost didn’t see Adrienne standing in front of him with a brown paper sack and a smile on her face.

“I take it your new job’s getting pretty intense right now,” said Adrienne.

“It’s a lot to handle at once, but overall, I’m glad I took the job. I just need some time to recuperate after that, that’s all. Is that my lunch?”

“Sure is. You left it on the kitchen counter this morning. And no, there aren’t any worms or maggots in your lunch today. Instead, you’re getting a classic favorite: peanut butter and jelly. Not just any kind of P&J, but Concord grape jelly and crunchy peanut butter. Your favorite!”

“No way!” said Scott with a sudden burst of happiness. Sure enough, he pulled the sandwich out of the sack and there it was in all its glory: the ever important grape jam. “You’re the queen!” he said before kissing Adrienne on the cheek and hurriedly unwrapping the plastic from his sandwich.

“Let me know when you get off work and we’ll see a movie or something. See you soon!” smiled Adrienne before she waved and hopped off to her next class. She didn’t see it, but Scott waved right back at her in a hypnotically slow manner. She probably got the message by now.

Scott had a seat in one of the chairs outside his office and eyeballed the contents of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He even pulled the two pieces of sourdough bread apart to see if there really were worms crawling around in there. His smile slowly descended into a faraway introspective expression. He searched every corner of his sandwich, every squished grape, and every broken peanut in the peanut butter. It was as though he was a detective honoring a search warrant. But no. Not one worm, not one maggot, and not one sing-songy command from his now-known biological mother.

The real test came when Scott took his first bite of sandwich. As he chewed, he rolled the food around in his tongue for yet another throughout inspection. Not one slime-covered creature swirled around in his mouth. In fact, the sandwich tasted as delicious as a P&J could be, probably because it was his personal favorite. Scott took another bite. And another. And another, until the whole thing was gone in record time. For even more reassurance, Scott lifted his T-shirt and saw that the skin was forming nicely over his previously exposed ribcage. If someone was looking for signs of an eating disorder or PTSD, they’d have to actually have the detective skills of someone honoring a search warrant.

Principal Williams made a throat clearing sound and Scott was immediately yanked out of his trance long enough for him to realize he’d been exposing his belly this entire time. Pulling his shirt down, he smiled and allowed redness to envelop his face. Principal Williams didn’t punish him for it, just smiled right back at him and said, “It’s good to have you on the team, Scott. Carry on.”

Monday, July 24, 2017

Balls

CHORUS
You don’t have the balls to shoot me down!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!
You don’t have the balls to watch me drown!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!

VERSE 1
You talk forever like it’s a real exercise
Working your jaw muscles by telling lies
That shit’s got to be made out of iron
You think you’ve got balls the size of tires?
You’re shaking and shivering like it’s winter
Your only true pain is like a wooden splinter
You’re no different from the rest of the chickens
Running away when it’s time for ass-kickings

EXTENDED CHORUS
You don’t have the balls to shoot me down!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!
You don’t have the balls to watch me drown!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!
You don’t have the balls to run this town!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!
Cacophony is your greatest sound!
Ugh!

VERSE 2
You’ve got your AK-47 locked and loaded
Your hair trigger temper has all but exploded
You’ve got a belt of grenades around your waist
You rush into battle with a zealot’s kind of haste
You throw your life away over temporary anger
Throw yourself in front of unnecessary danger
You’ve got some shrinkage and it’s not laundry
You can’t axe your way out of your own quandary

EXTENDED CHORUS 2
You don’t have the balls to shoot me down!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!
You don’t have the balls to watch me drown!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!
You don’t have the balls to ground and pound!
Balls! Balls! Balls! Balls!
Check for your nuts in the lost and found!
Rah!

BRIDGE
You don’t wear the pants, but you wear the G-string
Cutting your ass off until you’re no longer breathing
You don’t wear the colors, because they run
Shutting you up will be a lot of fucking fun!

Balls! Balls! Balls! BALLS!